Diva - An Unexpected Hero
by images-in-words
Summary: What happens when making the latest and greatest epic superhero movie means becoming your own special effect? Broadway star Rachel Berry is about to find out - and her life is going to change in ways she could never imagine.
1. Chapter 1

It's a role that's a little outside her comfort zone, she knows - but that's good, right? After all, versatility is the key to becoming an EGOT winner by the age of 25, and she already has her Tony and her Grammy, so she's halfway there. That, and the kind of shining talent that's far too bright to deny. So she gets out of bed greeting the New York City morning with a smile, as she always does, thinking about her impending entry into the film world, and about the people with whom she's going to be working, and her smile widens, impossibly.

Who could have imagined that one class from one single high school from one little nothing town in Ohio would produce so many highly successful people in the world of arts and entertainment? Or, for that matter, that they would all end up working together one day on what was anticipated to be the biggest movie event of the following year? It was unthinkable, and yet Rachel could hear Mr. Schue's voice in her mind, saying he knew from the moment they met that they would all go on to do amazing things with their lives, smiling that proud, fatherly smile. And yet, somehow, it was true: she and her fellow former Glee clubbers had gone on to become extraordinary people, all very well known and respected in their chosen fields.

Stepping onto her elliptical to the unforgettable, goose bump-raising opening notes of "Don't Rain on My Parade," Rachel thought back to the phone call that changed everything.

* * *

Her iPhone rang early on Sunday morning while Rachel was breakfasting on a fruit smoothie and watching E! News after completing her morning shower and skin care routine. Sprawled out on the couch in her fluffy white bathrobe, with an equally fluffy white towel on her head, she reached over to the table to grab the device. The screen showed the caller's name and picture, and Rachel saw that it was her agent - bearing good news, she hoped.

"Hello, this is Rachel Berry. With whom am I speaking?"

"Hey, sweet cheeks. Remember when you said you wanted to start taking a look at some movie scripts?"

The voice of Holly Holiday, one-time substitute teacher turned in-demand agent, never failed to make Rachel smile. Holly had turned her winning Ohio state lottery ticket into a degree in entertainment law and then an extremely successful talent agency, representing not only Rachel, but also Mercedes, Brittany and Santana as the most exciting young rising stars in the entertainment world. Mercedes was currently ruling the R&amp;B charts with her latest album, Brittany was highly in demand as both a lead dancer and choreographer for stage productions, world music tours and films, and Santana had just wrapped her second season as the star of a very highly rated police procedural drama on HBO. Rachel had no doubt that Kurt would have been on Holly's roster too, had it not been for his unexpected detour into behind the scenes work in costume and production design.

"Yes, I seem to recall saying that, and then getting buried under an avalanche of generic romantic comedy and teen drama scripts in the mail. I hope you're calling to say you've found something better for me?"

Holly's warm, throaty chuckle sounded in Rachel's ear. "I have, actually – and you're not gonna _believe_ who's involved."

Before she could continue, Rachel interrupted excitedly. "Oh my God! Who? Spielberg? Scorsese? Has Barbra finally decided to direct again?"

"Rachel, Rachel, calm down. No, it's not Spielberg or Scorsese. And Barbra's still not taking my calls or responding to my e-mails. It seems she's still holding a grudge after the unfortunate - but still totally not my fault! - James Brolin wine-spilling incident."

"Really? Still?" Rachel sighed. No invites to the Streisand mansion this year – again. Well, at least Holly sounded embarrassed about it. "Well, then, who _is_ it? Come on, spill! The suspense is killing me."

Holly laughed again. "All right, all right. The script is by the creators of the hottest comic book on the shelves right now, and there's a very talented up and coming director attached to the project. There's serious money backing the project too. I'm talking _major_ players."

Rachel frowned. A comic book? Was she seriously being offered...a _comic_ _book_ movie?

"I can _hear_ you frowning, Rachel. I know what you're thinking, and trust me, this is something you should strongly consider. I've sent you several issues of the comic, along with the script and the creators' and the director's contact information. They're really interested in having you on board. And don't tell anybody else, but Santana has already signed on to play a major role."

"Wait – _what?!_" Had she heard right? _Santana_ was involved? "She's...she's not the lead, is she? Because, I mean...I don't know if I can handle playing a supporting role with her in the lead. I mean, yes, we've been friends for years now and I'm very happy for all of her success, of course, but – I just don't want my first movie role to be one where I'm playing second fiddle to my former high school nemesis."

"No, no, no – _look_, Rachel. This part was written _expressly_ for you. The creators made it _very_ clear that you're their first choice. Like I said before, they really want you to be involved. As your agent, I _strongly_ recommend that you take this part. It's got 'blockbuster hit' written all over it. And as your friend, I think it would be a really great learning experience as well. In this business, you've got to keep a very open mind and be flexible when it comes to choosing your projects, and I honestly believe that this one is a winner."

Holly paused, meaningfully, and took in a large breath before continuing. Rachel knew what this meant: her agent was fully invested in seeing her involved in the project - and well, she'd never been wrong before. When Holly spoke with this kind of passion and determination, Rachel knew that she just couldn't say no. Because honestly, every choice she had made since hiring Holly as her agent had been absolutely right, no matter how unsure she'd been about the part.

"This is a star-making role, Rachel, and I know you're all about being a star. They _are_ kind of your thing, remember?"

* * *

Two days later, Rachel's buzzer sounded, and a familiar voice came through the intercom as she sat with her laptop at the kitchen table, where she had just finished a video interview with yet another Broadway fan Web site.

"Good morning, Rachel. I have your mail and that tofu stir-fry you love, fresh from Woo's Kitchen! Can you buzz me in, please?"

Rachel walked to the intercom, pushed the button and replied, "Of course, Marley. You didn't have to bring me lunch, you know, but thanks. Come on up!"

Marley Rose was Rachel's personal assistant. Fresh out of NYADA, she was young and full of the same wide-eyed optimism and enthusiasm that Rachel had when she'd been starting out. Tall, slender and strikingly beautiful, Marley had the kind of looks and talent that Rachel knew would go very far in their business with the right guidance, and Rachel was determined to provide that for the girl, just as Will, Emma and Holly had done for her.

A few moments later, Marley entered the spacious apartment, placed the mail on the table beside Rachel's laptop, and headed into the kitchen to put the food on the counter.

"That's a pretty sizable envelope from Holly. Another script?" Marley asked as she retrieved plates, forks and glasses from the kitchen cupboards and set them down on the counter next to the bag of food.

"Yes, it's a script and some additional information about the people involved with the project. Holly was adamant that I look at everything closely, even though I have some serious reservations about coming on board," Rachel replied. She turned the large envelope over and frowned as she saw the tape sealing it shut. "Could you bring me the scissors, please? Top right drawer on the left, by the sink. Thanks."

"No problem," Marley said brightly, getting the last of the Chinese food containers out of the bag, then turning to find the drawer containing the requested scissors. After a few moments of rummaging around, she found them and walked over to the table. "Y'know, if you ask me, Holly always puts way too much tape on those envelopes." She took the envelope from Rachel's hands with a warm smile and sat down. "Here, let me do it."

Rachel returned her assistant's smile with her own, the trademark thousand-watt smile that had won the hearts of musical theater fans everywhere. She chuckled internally when she saw the faint tinge of pink that always colored Marley's cheeks whenever Rachel gave her that patented smile. _You'd_ _think_ _she_ _would_ _have_ _gotten_ _used_ _to_ _it_ _by_ _now_, Rachel thought. But she was glad to see it, just the same.

"Thank you, Marley. What would I ever do without you?" Rachel asked, knowing she would receive the same answer she always got.

"Oh, stop. You'd do just _fine_ without me. I'm just here to give you a little extra help every now and then." She paused as she cut the envelope open, careful to ensure that none of the contents were damaged in the process, and handed it back to Rachel before rising from her chair and returning the scissors back to the drawer from which they came. "Ah, there you go. All done. Now, let me get our lunch on the table before it gets cold. You know Chinese food never tastes quite the same after it's been reheated."

After the food had been eaten and enjoyed and the plates and silverware rinsed and put away in the dishwasher, Rachel and Marley sat down on the large, plush sofa in the living room, where Rachel spread out the contents of the envelope on the dark, burnished wood of the mahogany coffee table. The script was a thick, lengthy tome, which surprised Rachel; she had thought comic book based movies were always light on dialogue and heavy on explosions. Intrigued, she peered down at the title: _Diva. _Marley looked at her with raised eyebrows and a shocked expression on her face, as if to say, "Really?" Then they both laughed. No wonder Holly thought this was a good choice; she always did have a strange sense of humor.

Then Rachel noticed the names beneath the title - and that was the moment she knew that she didn't even have to read the script. (Although she would, of course.) She had to do this movie. It wasn't even a question anymore.

_Diva – An Unexpected Hero, by Quinn Fabray and Sam Evans._

Marley saw the emotions flashing in Rachel's eyes: surprise, amazement, even a touch of fear. She looked down at the cover again and she too was struck with the realization of what this meant to the woman seated beside her. She was Rachel's assistant, but more than that, she was her friend.

"Oh...oh, wow. I can't – _really_? I can't believe it!" Marley whispered as she watched Rachel reach beneath the script book to find five issues of the comic book.

The cover of the first issue showed a flying super heroine with the New York City skyline behind her and a brightly shining sun above. The character's long flowing hair was dark and lovely, held away from her face by a golden circlet. Her costume was sleek and sexy, yet not overly revealing, like a gymnast's long-sleeved leotard, white, with a purple cape, belt and boots, and her long, sculpted legs were left bare. Rachel's hand flew to her face and tears filled her eyes when she saw that there was a brilliant gold star emblazoned upon the chest. But the face...the face was what struck her.

It was _hers_.

The wide, chocolate brown eyes...the olive skin tone...the full, pillow-like lips...and the nose. Even the nose. They were all hers. Just ever so slightly different, the nose just a little smaller, a little straighter, the hair a lighter shade...but still. It was her face.

Just...perfected.

_Written by Quinn Fabray and Sam Evans. Art by Quinn Fabray._

Her eyes lingered on the second credit: _Art by Quinn Fabray._

_Oh my god, _she thought_._ Was...was _this_ how they saw her? With that hair, that face, that body? Because really, she knew she'd always had good legs, but not like _those_.

She picked up the first issue. Marley, because she didn't know what else to do, followed, reaching down to pick up the second. On that cover, the heroine stood upon a stage, a spotlight illuminating her in the darkness, a microphone in her hand. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open. There were large, glowing musical notes dancing all around her.

Rachel quickly became engrossed in the words and pictures. It was a simple story, but well told: the tale of a young girl in a small town, trying to navigate through the daunting world of high school, with its cliques and classes, feeling ignored and alone, but in possession of a singular talent, one she knew would take her far away, to the big city, where fame and fortune awaited. She was a singer, and she was born to be a star.

It was almost too much for Rachel to take. Quinn's artwork was stunning. It was lovingly, painstakingly detailed, and she was in complete awe of the former cheerleader's talent. Had she always been able to draw like this? Why had she never seen it before? Why had she never shown her?

The characters spoke words that she had heard before, years ago, or similar ones. The pride, the hurt, the disappointment, the joy – everything she and her classmates had experienced growing up in the halls of McKinley High. A more loving tribute Rachel could not have imagined.

Indeed, as she continued to read, Rachel found that the fictional William Howard Taft High School, situated right smack dab in the middle of the bucolic suburb of Greenfield, Ohio, was a wonderfully depicted clone of McKinley.

The heroine had her dramatic side, of course, but her heart was pure. She had a best friend, Cain, a flamboyant and talented young gay boy; he was black in the comic book instead of white - but the attitude and fierce loyalty let Rachel know it was really Kurt through and through. There were three beautiful cheerleaders: a kind, sweet blonde named Suzanne (an obvious nod to Brittany); steely, conflicted Lucy (Rachel couldn't help but smile at the name, but really, what else would Quinn have chosen, though the red hair she'd given herself was a surprise) and a fiery, protective Latina named Marisol (who was nearly the spitting image of Santana).

There was a tyrannical gym teacher, Coach Silver, tall and haughty and possessed of an endless supply of track suits, taunts and insults - a dead ringer for Sue Sylvester - always followed by a miniature sidekick named Betty, and a clueless principal named Mr. Plum, with the balding pate and defeated manner of their own Mr. Figgins. Rachel laughed out loud at their battles with the exasperated, but always tenacious Glee Club teacher, Mr. Schiller, whose collection of colorful sweater vests (and curly, product-filled hair!) actually outdid Mr. Schuester's.

And there was a kind and gentle teacher with the unmistakable red hair and large, round eyes of Emma Pillsbury, although here she was named Ms. Keebler. Rachel loved how perfectly Quinn had captured Emma's perpetual expression of surprise, marveled at how the words that were placed in the balloons next to her face were full of gentle – if sometimes awkward - wisdom, just as Emma's had always been.

There were moving and insightful scenes of friendship and the tender ache of first relationships and self-discovery; humorous interactions at school: Tina's alter ego in the comic book, Alexa, acquiring the nickname "Bat" after convincing Principal Plum that she could turn into one so that she could continue wearing Goth clothing to school; Archie the wheelchair-bound boy learning to dance while seated; the misadventures of tall, dopey football player Jim and his fellow jock and best friend Hawk – Finn and Puck, of course. Quinn had drawn the sleepy half-smile Finn always wore _perfectly, _and Puck's obnoxious hairstyle and predatory eye for the girls was equally authentic.

But then, of course, amidst all of this true-to-life stuff, there were the expected breakneck action sequences featuring knock-down, drag-out battles between Diva and her arch-enemy - a fearsome, frenetic and tragically broken young woman calling herself Wild Child – and these, to Rachel's surprise and delight, were as skillfully written and compellingly illustrated as everything else.

Rachel kept reading. She felt suddenly eager to find out how her comic book doppelganger, whose name was Rena Cherry, acquires the power to soar above the city, along with that stunning costume, and before too long, the hero's origin was revealed.

* * *

_It's raining. Hard. Harder than anyone in town has ever seen it rain, harder than anyone could remember. The wind drives the rain against cars, buildings, people at punishing speed, the drops feeling like heavy bullets of ice as they slapped against metal and brick and wood and flesh. Rena is running home from school, her umbrella bent and useless against the harsh torrent of precipitation pelting down upon her from the blackest sky she has ever seen. She's soaked to the bone, her teeth are chattering, and she wants nothing more than to get inside her house, where her two mothers, Shelby and Holly, are (she hopes) waiting with towels and a steaming mug of hot chocolate ready for her._

_Trying desperately to wipe the rain from her eyes, she comes to the busiest intersection in town, where cars are traveling at unsafe speeds, driven by people who want to get home just as badly as Rena does. As she attempts to cross the street, her bag slips from her shoulder, comes open, and her precious book of sheet music falls out. Tired, disheveled and frustrated, Rena stops in the crosswalk, her attention drawn to the ground for a split-second – and then there's a truck bearing down on her._

_Eyes wide and unseeing, body rigid, she screams a wordless cry of terror. Screams and screams. There's no sound in the world other than that scream. It seems to go on forever._

_And the truck slams to a halt, as though an invisible wall has suddenly sprung up out of nowhere between her and the massive vehicle. The truck's front end crumples as though it's been punched by an angry giant's fist._

_How - ?_

_The driver will sport serious bruises on his chest and torso from the impact with the steering wheel, but he's alive. And, impossibly, so is Rena._

_What just happened?_

_It was her voice, she realizes, numb and shaking and just barely able to make sense of anything at all. Somehow, the sheer power of her voice had stopped the truck just before it could flatten her. Seeing that the truck driver is all right, Rena hurriedly gathers up her sheet music book and runs away, runs to the warmth, safety and comfort of her home._

_In that crucial, terrifying moment, when she had raised an invisible, indestructible barrier between herself and certain death, she hadn't noticed that the rain had stopped. Or that a bolt of lightning had shattered the seemingly impenetrable blackness of the sky at the same time she had let out that impossible scream._

* * *

Rachel gasped at that final, fateful moment, felt the release of the tension that she hadn't realized had built up within her.

"Good story, huh?" Marley asked softly. There was a slight tremble to her voice; she thought there might be something wrong with Rachel, wondered if she might need to call the doctor or take her to the emergency room.

Rachel shook her head, emerging from her comic book-induced haze. She was glad to see that the comic she held wasn't creased or otherwise damaged, despite the bone-deep emotion she had felt while reading that dramatic scene.

She noticed that Marley was looking at her with an expression of mild alarm, and instantly sought to reassure her that she was all right.

"Oh! Oh, yes. I had no idea that a comic book could be so...gripping. Sam and Quinn are wonderful storytellers," she said lightly, raising a hand to her chest in a typically dramatic gesture, reassuring her friend with a smile that said, _I'm okay._

Marley returned the smile, her face relaxing with relief. "They sure are! If you liked that one, just wait till you read the next issue," she said, waving the comic she held in her hand before placing it back on the table with the others.

"So...you liked it?" Rachel inquired, curious as to Marley's thoughts. She valued the younger woman's opinion, and had often asked for it in the past when weighing other career decisions.

"Yeah!" Marley exclaimed. "This is going to make an _amazing _movie! You...you _are _going to do it, right? You _have _to do it! Please tell me you're going to take the part."

Laughing, Rachel shook her head and said, "Holly's never steered me wrong yet. I should know to trust her absolutely by now. So yes, Marley. I'm going to take the part." She stood up then, placing her feet far apart and her hands on her hips. Her voice took on a strong, authoritative tone, and with a serious, determined expression on her face, she declared: "Get out of the way, Spider-Man. Move over, Superman. Stand aside, Batman. There's a new hero in town, and her name is..._Diva!"_

Marley just looked at her blankly for a few seconds before shaking her head and responding, "I think you're going to need to work on that delivery."

They both burst out laughing, and it was a good five minutes before they stopped.

After they had both read all five issues of the comic book, Marley reluctantly went home so that Rachel could read the movie script by herself. She knew that Rachel liked to focus and concentrate fully on the material whenever she was presented with a new script to read. Comic books were one thing, but scripts were quite another, and Rachel took them very, very seriously.

So it was that Rachel delved deeply into the script, reading in bed and visualizing herself in the role as she always did. Imagining herself in the costume, she grimaced at the realization that she was going to need to work out a heck of a lot more if she was going to look like a superhero. Holly was right; it was an amazing script. For first time screenwriters, Sam and Quinn knew _exactly_ what they were doing. Even if the character hadn't been based on her, Rachel would have wanted to play the role of Rena: she was smart, funny, occasionally a tad abrasive_. _There was an undercurrent of doubt, an ache of vulnerability, beneath the brash self-confidence the character displayed with her family, with her friends, and especially when wearing the costume and heading into battle. Nothing was going to stop her, nothing was going to get in her way – and yet, she couldn't stop asking, _what if it did?_

Rachel knew all too well what that was like.

But aside from the emotional depth with which the character had been imbued, the script had everything Rachel imagined a fan of the comic (and she counted herself as one now) could want: the friendships, the romances, the humor, the battles – and most of all, the determination of one young woman to rise above everything, to make a mark on the world. To matter. To be _special_.

To soar into the sky and shine like a star.

When Rachel closed her eyes after finally finishing the script and putting it aside, she could see herself flying. And suddenly, she wanted to do _that_ more than anything she had ever wanted to do in her life.

Her iPhone rang, so loud after the long silence that Rachel jumped in surprise. Shaking her head and laughing silently at herself, she picked it up from its place next to her on the bed, where she had abandoned it before taking up the script. Her smile instantly reversed course, the corners of her mouth turning into a small frown when she noticed that the call was coming from an unfamiliar number. Had Jacob Ben Israel somehow gotten hold of her number _again_? She was going to have some words with her service provider if that was the case.

She was still frowning when she accepted the call, but kept the frown out of her voice as she answered with her standard greeting: "Hello, this is Rachel Berry. With whom am I speaking?"

"Rachel? Hi. It's been a long time." The voice that came through the phone was unmistakable. Musical and raspy, like no other voice Rachel had ever heard.

One that was as much a part of her as her own.

She felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her, just as she had when she'd seen the names on the script.

"_Quinn?_"

* * *

**This was actually the first _Glee _story I ever started writing, with the encouragement, support and expert editing help of my amazing friend and beta, the extraordinary _kp83_ (whose work here you should all be reading, like, _now_). I have several more chapters already written, and I'd like to see how much you all like it before I post the next chapter. Please leave a review or send me a PM if you like it, and let me know what you might like to see in future installments. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

"Hi. Again," Quinn said, laughing. "It's good to hear your voice. How have you been?"

"Oh, my god. It's great to hear your voice too. Um, I've been doing well, thank you. Just finished up a year on stage, which was quite wonderful, but I'm at the point now where I'm feeling ready to do something new, a little different."

Rachel paused, taking a breath. She closed her eyes, picturing the bemused smile she knew was on Quinn's face. How was it that talking to Quinn still made her feel just a tiny bit nervous, just a little flustered, after all these years?

"I've missed you, Quinn. I know that people get busy in their lives and it's difficult sometimes to find time for everything and everyone, but really, that's no excuse for two longtime friends like us to fall out of touch, even for a short time. I didn't even recognize your number when it came up on my phone – when did you change it?"

Quinn drew in a short breath of her own. _Still the same Rachel, _she thought._ Thank goodness._

"Well, apparently I had a stalker, believe it or not. I think he was a guy I met at a convention. Somehow he got hold of my number and proceeded to call me, like, a thousand times a day. Now I know how you felt when JBI was always after you. It got to the point where Tina was grabbing the phone out of my hand and screaming into it before we even knew who was calling! That made for some awkward moments with Sam and Mike," she laughed, although Rachel could hear the pain beneath the laughter. She could always hear the pain.

"That's more than a little frightening," Rachel responded. "Did you have to file a restraining order or anything?"

Quinn sighed. "Happily, no. Changing the number did the trick. It was a really, really weird thing. I never thought that anyone in my line of work could attract that kind of bizarre attention. It always seemed to be something more likely to happen to you and Santana, or even Brittany. Not me. Not the girl in the wheelchair."

"Now you listen to me, Quinn Fabray," Rachel bristled. She didn't like it when Quinn started to sound like she was getting down on herself. "Chair or no chair, you're still the prettiest girl I've ever met. I've seen both guys and girls fall at your feet for years now. I suppose it was inevitable that an unwanted suitor was going to go a little too far one day. Still, I'm so glad it never went beyond the phone calls."

"Me too. Tina was losing her mind over it. All is well now, though." Rachel heard a small cough, followed by the sound of someone else's laughter. "Um, I'm going to put you on speaker now. Someone wants to say hello."

Rachel squealed. She knew what that meant. There came an answering squeal at the other end, and Rachel could not contain the grin that spread across her face.

"Tina! Or should I say, Doctor Cohen-Chang? How _are _you?"

"Hi, Rachel! We're doing great! How's New York treating you?"

Giggling as though they were all back in high school, basking in the warmth and affection in Tina's voice, Rachel replied, "New York is treating me very well, thanks. I trust LA is treating you well too?"

"It sure is! We miss everyone, though. I understand that there's something of a reunion in the works, though."

Quinn cut in. "Well, if everything goes the way we _hope_ it will..."

"Are you talking about the movie?" The words were out of her mouth before Rachel could catch them. She hadn't intended to bring it up so soon, but the cat was out of the bag now.

"So Holly sent you the script, then." Rachel listened to the pause that followed, knew it was because Quinn was biting her lip and running her hand through her hair nervously, like she always did, even though she had no reason to worry. "Did...did you like it?"

"Oh, Quinn. I loved it! And the comic books, too." Rachel gushed. "I had no idea you could draw like that! Or that you and Sam were such a great storytelling team! It was a thrilling story – I was on the edge of my seat the whole time I was reading."

"See, baby?" Tina cooed. "I knew she'd love it."

She could practically hear Quinn blush. "I know it's not serious theater or anything, but I was really hoping you'd like it anyway. Sam was, too." Quinn took a deep breath. "Have you told Holly what you think?"

"Not yet, but...the answer to the question I know you're dying to ask, but are too nervous to let out, is _yes._ I could never let anyone else play the role of Rena Cherry, a.k.a. Diva. It will be an honor and a privilege for me to bring her to life on the big screen, Quinn. I only hope to be able to do such a wonderful character justice."

_Silence._

The seconds stretched out to what seemed like minutes before Quinn spoke. Rachel hardly heard her breathe.

"Really?"

"Really, Quinn." Tina cheered in the background, but Quinn was quiet.

"Are you...are you sure?"

"I have never been so sure of anything in my life. I told you before, I just spent a year on the stage and now I'm ready to do something completely different. Truthfully, I had always wondered if a movie role would ever come my way, but this...this is better than anything I ever dreamed. It's an amazing script, an amazing character, and to top it off, I get to work with you and Sam too! I honestly can't wait to get started."

"That's...that's amazing. Really," Quinn said softly. "I...I can't believe this is happening. I saw you living your dream, and Santana living hers, and Britt, and Mercedes too, and I – well, I just never thought it would happen for me. Not like this. Sam and I, we were happy with the success of the comic, you know, for what it was, but then...then it just blew up, and now, to see it becoming a movie, and not just a movie, but with Artie directing it, too -"

"Wait." Rachel blinked. "Did you say..._Artie _is directing the movie? _Our _Artie?"

She couldn't have heard that correctly. Yes, Artie had directed several well-received independent films in the last several years, and was regarded as a talented up and coming director, sure – but those films had been small, intimate character studies, low-key dramas, far removed from the big budget wizardry and epic scale of your typical superhero blockbuster.

"Holly didn't tell you? Well, she _does_ love her surprises," Quinn murmured, shocked that Rachel had been unaware of Artie's involvement in the project.

"More like she loves that I _hate_ surprises – but in this case, I will most gladly make an exception," Rachel laughed. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she told me _Santana _has signed on too, although it makes more sense now that I've seen her character in the comic book. You drew her really well, by the way. You drew _everyone _very well, actually."

"About that, Rachel – she's not playing that character. She's playing the villain, Wild Child. Clearly, Holly didn't divulge that little bit of information either."

Rachel thought back to their early days in high school, when Quinn and Santana had both been among Rachel's bullies and tormentors, before they had all joined the Glee Club and found their way to becoming friends. She counted Santana as one of her dearest, closest friends now, in fact – so why did this news make her feel so strange? It was nonsense, of course; those days were long behind them. Forgiveness had been sought from Rachel by both former cheerleaders, and been granted to them, ages ago.

She shook her head to clear it of the memories, and said brightly, "Holly and her surprises. I'll have to have a talk with her about that one of these days. But before I do that, I will definitely have to speak with Santana to congratulate her on the role. She never mentioned being interested in any movie projects when we last spoke, but then she's been so busy with her TV show and trying to keep up with everything that Brittany's doing..."

"So you're okay with Santana playing a character who wants to rip your head off?" Quinn asked, amused. "Talk about art imitating life."

Rachel chuckled in spite of herself. "That was a long time ago, Quinn. Things have gotten better for all of us since then. A _lot_ better. Speaking of better things, are there any other former classmates about whose involvement I should know before I have to threaten Holly with being fired to get her to spill?"

Tina spoke up. "Mercedes is recording the theme song for the movie with Finn and Puck's band, Ghosts in the Park, and they're doing all the rest of the music as well. They're really good, definitely in a classic hard rock vein. I think they'd like you to record a version of the theme song too, if you'd be willing. Brittany's taking some time off to be with Santana throughout the filming. Oh, and Mike is doing the fight choreography. Will, Emma and even Sue have been invited to visit the set, and I think Kitty and Sugar will be around too. They work for the producer, who just happens to be Sugar's dad, if you can believe that."

"Wow! It really _is _going to be like a Glee reunion. Well, a working reunion, anyway," Rachel mused. "This is so exciting! I haven't seen Mercedes since last year, and it's been even longer since the last time I saw Puck and Finn and Artie. I can't wait to see everyone!"

"We're in touch with Puck, and we see him fairly often since he and Finn are based out here. Shelby brings Beth out to visit on a regular basis – but you know that, since you see her all the time – and we get together as a family." Rachel heard the smile in Quinn's voice; she couldn't help but smile along with it. It had been a long road for all of them to get to where they were now, and she couldn't be more proud of the way everyone had grown and made their peace with all their past experiences, good and bad.

"Beth is so lucky. She has two of the best moms a girl could possibly ask for, and a great, if slightly immature – still! - dad, too."

Quinn laughed heartily at that. "Puck will probably never grow up entirely. He'll always be a big goof, but honestly, would we really want him any other way? He loves Beth with all his heart, though. He'd do anything for her. She's got him wrapped around her little finger, and he's just fine with that."

"That's wonderful, Quinn. I always knew everything would work out fine between all of us. I'm a little bit psychic, you know."

"And yet Holly manages to keep stuff from you. Might want to check with Santana and her mysterious third eye about fine tuning that sort of thing."

"Duly noted. I have to talk to her about the movie anyway."

"Rachel, listen. You and I both know that Santana's different now. She's been different for a long time. You have nothing to worry about, as far as working with her is concerned."

Rachel sighed. "I know that. Even if we weren't all friends, Santana would still behave herself because she's a professional, and she knows that the project can't succeed if everyone's not on the same page. Besides, you said that Brittany is coming with her, right? She'll keep Santana in line if there's ever a moment when she can't control herself."

"Exactly. So don't worry about it, okay? This is going to be fun! Probably the most fun we've had since we were all in Glee together. But yes, you should talk to Santana, just because. She gets irritated if people don't keep in touch. You know that."

Rachel rolled her eyes at this, but she knew Quinn was right. "I'll text her right after I talk to you. Actually, maybe I should just send out some kind of group message, since it seems like everyone we know is involved in this thing anyway, right?"

"Except Matt Rutherford. Whatever happened to him, anyway?"

"He moved away somewhere, I don't remember where. I think I heard he's a popular club DJ now."

"Huh. Imagine that. I suppose stranger things have happened."

"Like Mr. Schue's first marriage."

"And Sue's pregnancy."

"Not to mention her becoming principal. I mean, how in the world did _that _happen?"

Both women laughed long and loud now. Rachel heard Tina in the background saying in a playful tone of mock exasperation, "What the hell are you two going on about now?"

"And on that note, perhaps we should say goodnight," Quinn said around a loud, lip-smacking kiss from her wife. "Mmm. Tina's starting to feel lonely and ignored, and we just can't have that."

"No, we most certainly cannot! Tina is a dear and cherished friend, and we must never let her feel otherwise. I myself must send out that group message, and then get to sleep. Proper rest is a must for peak performance, as you know."

"I'm so glad I called. Let's talk again soon, okay?" Quinn sounded tired, but genuinely happy at the same time.

"Absolutely. Please hug your beautiful wife for me. I love you, Lucy."

"I love you too, short stack."

"Goodnight."

"Next call's on you. Goodnight."

Rachel ended the call. Then she dropped her phone to the bed, put her face in her hands, and finally let the tears come. Tears of joy, tears of sadness. Quinn always made her feel so much of both.

Suddenly, she realized she was just too tired to even write that group text, overwhelmed and exhausted, so she turned off her phone, turned out the lights, and went to bed.

* * *

Rachel was always known for texting and e-mailing exactly as she spoke, so no one was really surprised at how long and verbose it was when they received this message the next morning.

_Hello my dear former Glee Clubbers! I trust that this message finds you all well and happy this evening. It is most exciting to know that soon we will all be seeing and working with each other again. I have missed you all greatly, and could not be more proud of your achievements. Each and every one of you has become exactly the kind of success I always knew you could be. It just goes to show how valuable and important participation in the arts is to young people, how it can set them on the path to making their dreams come true if they never, as the song says, stop believing. Please reply to this message at your soonest convenience to relate your thoughts and feelings on this most momentous of occasions. Sincerely, RBB. :^) _

It had taken her an hour and at least fifteen re-writes before she'd settled on the final text, and then only because Marley had come over to save Rachel from spending the entire day crafting the perfect message and proceeded to threaten to take Rachel's phone and throw it out the window if she didn't stop obsessing over every word and punctuation mark.

"You wouldn't dare!" Rachel shouted as she barely managed to thwart Marley's attempt at snatching the iPhone from her hand.

"I would too. The first message you wrote was perfectly fine, and so were the dozen after that!" Marley responded calmly, ignoring Rachel's annoyed pout. "These are your _friends_, Rachel. You know you don't have to impress them anymore, don't you?"

"Well, of course I know that, Marley. And it's not about trying to impress them, anyway – I just hate the way so-called text-speak has dumbed down the way people communicate with each other nowadays. Is it really so hard to type a 'y' and an 'o' before a 'u' when addressing the person with whom you're messaging? I mean, _honestly_."

Marley couldn't help but think that Rachel looked really cute when she got all passionate about something – which was just about _everything_, actually, now that she thought about it - which meant that she looked really cute just about _all the time._

When had she realized that?

The phone buzzed with the first reply to Rachel's message before Marley could say anything more. She was glad for the distraction, because she knew she was blushing at these sudden thoughts about Rachel's cuteness.

"It's Santana!"

_I would have responded sooner, but Britt and I were getting our sweet lady kisses on and I kinda didn't notice the phone going off. Not sorry about that. Yeah, I guess it'll be nice to see all you losers again and let you bask in my HBO-approved awesomeness. Britt's actually taking some time out of her own super-busy schedule to join us on the set, so you all better be extra nice to her, or you know I'll have to let Snixx out and go all Lima Heights on your asses._

Rachel laughed, shaking her head. "That girl never changes. I hope she never does. After all, we need someone who always, as she says, keeps it real."

The iPhone buzzed again. It was Brittany. Of course.

_Sorry about that, you guys. I made San promise to keep Snixx under lock and key, but I know that's not really necessary because she actually loves all of you just as much as I do. I just can't wait to see everybody! This is going to be so much fun! xoxo Britt-Britt_

Rachel giggled as her heart clenched with affection for the blonde, blue-eyed dancer who had tamed Santana so many years ago. Brittany was such a bright ray of sunshine in all their lives, and Rachel felt her body warm with happiness at the girl's words.

The replies started to pour in, coming fast and furious, and Rachel's heart was so full she felt as though it might burst at any second.

**Mercedes**: _Hey y'all! You know this movie's gonna be off the hook. Glee club is going to turn Hollywood upside down and inside out! _

**Noah**: _Puckzilla checkin in here. Me n Finn have been havin a blast rockin out all over the US of A, but u know home is where the Gleeks r. Get ready for some serious partyin dudes._

**Finn**: _Yeah, what Puck said. It's gunna b rly cool 2 b 2gether w/every1 again._

**Sugar**: _Whatever. You're all bringing me presents, right? Sorry, Asperger's._

**Tina**: _I'm so excited about this, I'm over the moon. There's nothing better than sharing happy times with my singing &amp; dancing brothers &amp; sisters. Counting the days until we're all belting out a tune once again!_

**Matt**: _Rachel, how did you get my number? Good to see all your names on the screen. Nice to know I haven't been forgotten after all. Thanks for the message!_

**Santana: **_I may have had something to do with that, Matty. HBO plus law enforcement connections equals even more scary-ass me. Not that anyone should worry..._

**Blaine**: _OMG! Memory overload here. Do you really think Hollywood can withstand a full-on Glee invasion? I guess we're about to find out! Love and miss you all so much. Looking forward._

**Emma**: _Words cannot express the joy I feel at seeing you all so fulfilled in your lives. All your dreams are coming true right before our eyes! Will and I are very much looking forward to seeing you all. Please forgive me if I cry a lot. :)_

**Kurt**: _You think __**you'll**__ be crying, Ms. P-S? I don't know how I'm going to get through it without being a complete mess. All those salty tears won't be good for my skin at all!_

**Quinn**: _I don't tell you this enough, but I love you guys. I'm not kidding when I say I would never have gotten through high school without you. Thanks for being the family I never had, and for taking time out of your lives to celebrate all this with me and Sam._

**Sam**: _Beyond grateful for everyone's love, support and encouragement. You're all amazing friends. Honestly, I still don't know how all this happened to a goofy kid from Lima – but I'm sure glad it did!_

**Sue**: _All this over a stupid comic book which will no doubt be an even stupider movie and an appalling misuse of celluloid? Clearly all my efforts were wasted on you, Q. You think making a movie is hard? Try single-handedly rescuing hostages from an underground bunker in Iraq on your lunch hour – THAT'S HARD!_

**Artie**: _I guess you don't want that cameo role in the film then Coach?_

**Will**: _Don't listen to Sue, guys. You're going to conquer the movie business just like you've conquered everything else in your lives – with the same passion, determination and talent that brought you that win at Nationals._

**Mike**: _When we work together, nothing can stop us. It was true in high school, and it's just as true now. Hollywood's never going to be the same after we get done with it!_

**Kitty: **_I'm bringing the Junior Varsity in to say hello too, because they just wouldn't stop begging me until I finally gave in. Well, now they can't say I never did anything for them!_

There was an interval of a few moments as Rachel silently took in all the words, trying to get her feelings under control as wave after wave of emotion crashed into and over her. She felt like the luckiest person on Earth to know these people and call them her friends.

While Rachel had been silently reading the messages that kept popping up on her screen, Marley had surreptitiously taken out her own phone and typed out her own reply. She held her breath as she waited for the familiar alert sound to break the silence that had enveloped the room.

Rachel looked down at the screen.

**Marley**: _I'm so happy for all of you, and especially for Rachel, who works harder and has more talent than anybody I've ever seen. You're lucky to have known her as long as you have. I've only known her for a short time, relatively speaking, but I can honestly say that it's an honor and a privilege for me to be her assistant and to see her do what she does every single day. She's truly an inspiration._

Rachel's head snapped up as if she'd suddenly been awakened from a deep sleep, and she fixed a look of wonder on the younger woman's face. She saw the girl looking back at her with an expression of such complete warmth and honesty that it actually made her a little dizzy. It was almost as though they were seeing each other for the first time, but seeing in a new way, a different way, a deeper way, a way they'd never seen anyone before.

The younger woman fought the urge to duck her head and hide behind the curtain of her long hair. She refused to look away. Not now. Not this time.

The phone beeped again, and the spell was broken as Rachel broke eye contact to look down at her phone to read the new message.

**Santana**: _Jeez, could you all be any more mushy? *gag* Let's do dinner this week, Berry. Bring your starry-eyed assistant along too. I want to meet her._

Rachel sighed and shook her head, a smile composed of equal parts amusement and exasperation playing across her face. "It appears that we have a dinner date, Marley...with Santana."

* * *

Three hours, a bunch of Glee Club videos on YouTube and four episodes of Santana's HBO police drama _The Line _on DVD later, Marley looked up from the laptop screen and turned to Rachel. In a small, nervous voice, she said, "Um...she's...wow. Intense. Really, really intense. Like, _scary_ intense. And yet you've been..._friends_ with her? For _years_?"

Laughing, Rachel replied, "Well, we weren't always, but we worked out our differences well before the end of high school. She actually lived with me and Kurt for quite some time back when we were in school at NYADA." She paused, remembering. "It took her a while to find herself, find a career path and figure out exactly what she wanted to do with her life - but as you saw, when she found it, she got into it in a big way. Funny...she always had so much trouble getting in touch with her emotions, _expressing _them, when we were kids, but acting comes so naturally for her, like singing does for me."

Marley grinned. "So she majored in drama both in high school _and_ college, huh?"

"Oh, you could say that. I _did _tell you all about the long, turbulent history of Santana and Brittany's relationship, after all," Rachel giggled.

A soft light came into her eyes then, and her tone became quiet and thoughtful. "They're still together, though. Through everything. That's the kind of relationship I want. Strong. Enduring. No matter what life's thrown in their way, they've fought past it and overcome it all. That's love. That's _real_ love."

Marley wanted to say how beautiful she thought Rachel was then, in that moment, with her eyes shining and her voice so quiet, yet so powerful, as she laid her emotions bare. She wanted to tell Rachel how moved she was by the way she spoke so honestly, how she made herself so open and vulnerable, but the words escaped her. It was as though there simply weren't adequate words – in any language - to describe what she felt.

So she didn't say it.

Instead, all she could say was, "Me too."

Rachel sighed. Then she brightened, smiling her patented megawatt show smile, banishing the darkness from her face, and from the room itself. "Well, until we find it, then...why don't you stay over and we'll have an old fashioned ice cream – if you don't mind vegan ice cream, that is - and movies girls' night in?"

Marley released the breath she'd been holding – why she'd been holding it, she had no idea – and returned the smile with a chuckle and a grin of her own. Rachel was just too much.

"Sure," she laughed. "That sounds great."


	3. Chapter 3

**chapter three**

They were meeting Santana and Brittany at an elegant upscale restaurant at which Rachel's Broadway fame guaranteed them a table tucked discreetly away in a corner, where celebrity photographers and other chasers of the famous wouldn't be able to see them. It wasn't that Rachel and Santana disliked the press - or meeting their fans in public, for that matter - and in fact, if Rachel were not bringing Marley along, the two former Glee clubbers and NYADA classmates would have gladly braved the gauntlet of cameras and autograph seekers that inevitably materialized whenever they were out and about in the city. Brittany was used to it, having been with Santana since long before her HBO success, but Rachel didn't want to subject Marley to the intensity of such an experience before she was ready to handle it. She felt very protective of the younger girl and wanted to shield her from any possible unpleasant interactions.

Unpleasant interactions with her wardrobe, however, were a different story.

Marley, for her part, was nearly overwhelmed with nerves at the thought of meeting Santana and Brittany, who were legendary, near-mythical figures in her mind now, thanks to many hours of listening to Rachel's stories about them. This led her to stand in her closet, in front of the full length mirror hung on the inside of the door, gazing at herself in her simple blue and white striped top, skinny blue jeans and black sneakers, and think to herself frantically, _this will never do. They'll think I'm boring before I even open my mouth to prove it._

She stripped off her top and grabbed a T-shirt with an M.C. Escher print on the front. She slipped it on and smiled at the mind-bending artwork. At least her shirt would be interesting, if nothing else. Completing the ensemble with a cute red beret, Marley stepped out of her closet and back into the center of her sparsely decorated bedroom. It was small, like the rest of her apartment, but comfortable and cozy. She was paid generously, probably better than a personal assistant to a Broadway star really deserved to be; she could easily afford a larger, nicer place, but her frugal upbringing as an Ohio high school cafeteria cook's daughter had stayed with her. She saw no need to spend more money on another place, when in truth she didn't really spend a whole of time at home anymore.

It wasn't that Rachel was demanding, despite her title as a Broadway diva; nothing could be further from the truth, actually. She was far and away the most pleasant boss that Marley could imagine, and one of the nicest people she had ever known. It was simply the fact that they enjoyed each other's company and liked to hang out together long after the tasks needed to keep Rachel's day-to-day life in order were completed. Rachel's mania for organization was quite helpful, which made Marley's job far easier than it would be if she were in the employ of most other show business types, if the horror stories she had heard and read about other stars and the way they treated people, were at all true.

All things considered, Marley felt exceptionally fortunate to be Rachel Berry's personal assistant. There were far worse things one could be in this hard, sprawling city.

She inhaled and exhaled deeply. If it was possible to be prepared to meet Santana Lopez for the first time, she felt as close to it as she could be. She threw on her faux-leather jacket, grabbed the keys off the hook on the wall by the door, turned out the light, and left her apartment. As she locked the door, she prayed silently with every fiber of her being that she didn't embarrass herself – and Rachel, by association – today.

When she came out of her building, Marley was surprised to see a rather large and shiny black town car parked right in front. The windows were all tinted, so she couldn't see inside, but she hoped she wasn't about to be kidnapped and held prisoner in some rich weirdo's basement. She was making a mental note to stop watching those terrifying true mystery shows on television when the back passenger side window suddenly descended, revealing a small, dark-haired, olive skinned woman seated with her legs crossed and her hands primly folded in her lap, her eyes obscured by a pair of dark sunglasses. She was wearing a delicate, wide-brimmed hat and a short, tight black dress with a low neckline that didn't really leave much to the imagination.

"Get in," the mystery woman said, her voice a dark, sultry purr. She didn't turn her head to see if Marley was still standing there, covered eyes focused ahead at some point in the distance; her face showed nothing but quiet confidence that her command would be quickly obeyed.

Marley felt as though she should run, yet her feet were rooted to the spot, as though the concrete sidewalk had somehow grown hands and placed her ankles in an unbreakable grip. Her mouth had gone dry, and her eyes widened in fear.

"Who – who are you? What do you want from me? Please, let me go – I've got a very important date, and I'd really like to not be late for it -"

The woman turned her head then, and a small smile turned the corners of her lips upward. "A date, you say? Well, well. Whoever you're planning to meet is a very lucky...person, if you don't mind me saying so. We can talk about it in the car. I'd be very interested to know about them." The smile grew a little wider, and Marley couldn't help but think it reminded her of someone she knew. But before that thought could develop further, the door suddenly opened slightly, and she squeaked and jumped back away from it.

"Marley. Please, get in."

The woman leaned forward, giving Marley a clear line of sight down the front of her dress. She found her eyes drawn there, and blushed in spite of herself. She coughed to clear her throat, embarrassed. She felt nervous and frightened and didn't know what to do.

_Wait - she called me – how does she know my name?_

"How – how do you know my name? What's going on? Just tell me, please!"

"**Marley.**" The voice was stern and insistent now. Then, softly, pleading: "Please."

"Who _are _you?"

The tension of the moment was shattered by a peal of laughter coming from the car.

"God, Marley! It's me!"

This voice she recognized. Her face was hot with embarrassment. She leapt into the car to tackle the woman against the seat.

"You scared me half to death! I thought I was about to be kidnapped and tortured or sold into slavery or – or something!"

Rachel continued to laugh even after her expensive sunglasses fell down to the floor and her elegant hat was knocked askew.

"I'm – I'm sorry, Marley. I _am _an actress, and the _femme_ _fatale_ is a role I've always wanted to play. Perhaps I took it a little too far, but – oh! The look on your face when I rolled the window down. I wish you could have seen it!"

Marley glared at Rachel even as she felt her anger and embarrassment fading; it was no match for the starlet's wide, radiant smile, her musical laughter, her flushed and glowing skin. She lowered her eyes, not wanting to stare.

"Let's just go," Marley grumbled. "Santana will probably kill us if we're late."

Rachel sighed and waved to the driver, who had been waiting patiently, silently, for the signal to get moving.

"Marley..." she began, her voice soft. "I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to frighten you so badly. Please don't be angry with me."

Marley said nothing, keeping her focus on the cars beside them on the road, on the people bustling up and down the sidewalks. Then she rolled her eyes at herself, because really, the silent treatment? With Rachel? That was never going to work. Rachel would just keep talking and talking and talking until Marley was worn down and had no choice but to respond, if for no other reason than to hear a different voice.

So she directed a breath upwards, trying to blow an errant lock of hair out of her eyes, and said, "I'm not angry with you, Rachel. I'm just...I was already tense enough without that, you know? I needed you to calm me down, not work me up into a state of near terror."

Rachel tugged at the younger woman's arm, trying to pull her closer. There was far too much space between them on the luxury car's plush back seat for her liking.

"Oh, Marley. I'm so sorry – I just...I...didn't think you would be so...so nervous about meeting Santana and Brittany. Really, I know that Santana can come off as kind of...well, harsh, but she's actually a very sweet person underneath the tough exterior. She doesn't trust or let people in all that easily, but I know she's going to like you, because honestly, how could she _not _like you? You're smart, you're fun, you're gorgeous...the whole package. It would be _impossible _for her not to like you. And Brittany is just about the sweetest person on Earth, so even if San did start to get a little...out of control, it only takes one look of disapproval from Britt to get her to back off. She's kind of amazing that way. So really, you have no reason to worry at all."

By the end of Rachel's speech, Marley found that she had somehow gotten close enough to the diminutive starlet that their legs were touching.

_How does she do that? How does she always manage to get me close to her without me even realizing it?_

Rachel put her head on her shoulder and looked up at her with those impossibly large, impossibly brown eyes. "It's going to be fine. Better than fine. It's going to be wonderful. I promise you. Okay?"

At some point their hands had met, and their fingers were laced together.

Marley found that it was impossible not to believe her. Not when she looked at her like that. Not when they were touching like this.

"Okay."

* * *

The car pulled around to the little-used rear entrance of the restaurant so that Rachel and Marley could exit the car discreetly, without being noticed. By the end of the journey, the two were smiling and laughing as though Rachel's ill-thought out prank had never happened. The driver opened the door and extended his hand to help Rachel out of the car. The starlet smiled her dazzling show smile, taking the offered assistance while reaching her other hand back to take Marley's and guide her out of the vehicle as well.

"Thank you, sir," Rachel said, even as she beamed at Marley. Her eyes traveled up and down the younger girl's form. "You look lovely, if a little underdressed."

Marley blushed and replied, "Well, I didn't know the place was _this _nice. If you'd told me, I would have worn something more like...well, like what you're wearing. Which is beautiful, by the way."

Rachel pouted. "Well, I _did _mention that it was in an upscale neighborhood not too far from the theater...but no, it's fine." She pointed to the Escher print on Marley's shirt. "Your appreciation for the visual arts will, I'm sure, be favorably noted around here."

"Let's hope that's not all that's favorably noted, especially by Santana and Brittany."

Rachel looked at her watch. "Speaking of whom, they should be arriving any moment now, so let's get to our table before they do. And Marley, really – stop worrying. They're going to like you. Relax and just be yourself, and everything will be fine. I promise."

Marley looped her arm through the one Rachel offered and took a deep breath.

"Right," she said, in a voice that was much more confident than she felt. "Let's go."

They had barely settled into their seats when Santana approached the table, hand-in-hand with Brittany. Dark eyes sparkled with warmth, blue eyes with happiness, and Marley thought to herself that no two people had ever looked more opposite, and yet more _right _together, than these two.

Brittany exploded forward and wrapped Rachel in a bone-crushing hug, lifting her out of her chair and squealing with delight, a smile of pure joy lighting up her pale, lovely face. "Hi, Rachel!"

"Brittany, hello," Rachel gasped. "Strong as ever, I see."

Marley hid her chuckle behind a hand as Brittany released Rachel from her grip.

"Hey, short stack. Long time, no see," Santana greeted Rachel, choosing to forgo the hug in favor of exchanging kisses on the cheek, to Rachel's relief. "You look good."

"Hello, Santana. You look lovely as well."

Santana shrugged, turning to pull out Brittany's chair. "Don't I always? Gotta represent for my adoring public, after all."

Brittany, however, was paying no attention to the gesture, focusing her curious gaze on Marley instead. Rachel caught Brittany's stare and cleared her throat.

"Brittany, Santana – this is Marley Rose, my friend and invaluable personal assistant."

Marley stuck out her hand for Brittany to shake, but found it flung aside, and herself wrapped in Brittany's startlingly tight embrace.

"Hi Marley! It's so nice to meet you!"

_Rachel really should have warned me about this,_ she thought as she fought for breath.

"Britt! Britt, come on – let the poor girl go," Santana chided gently, reaching to unwrap her girlfriend from the very surprised young woman she was squeezing. Then, to Rachel, she stage-whispered, "You didn't tell her about Britt's hugs? Really?"

Rachel blushed, but didn't look away from her friend's playful mock glare. Truthfully, she'd meant to warn Marley, but on the other hand, she'd thought maybe at some point Britt had learned to rein it in just a little. She sighed. _Guess not._

Finally, Santana managed to extricate Marley from Brittany's arms. Rachel saw that the poor girl looked a little pale, no doubt due to her temporary inability to breathe, and signaled to the bewildered looking waiter who had been watching them from the far side of the room. He hurried over to the table, obviously flustered to be waiting on several famous people, and one other who appeared about ready to pass out.

"Yes, um, ma'am – um, I mean, Ms. Berry?"

Before Rachel could get a word out, Santana barked, "Hey. You see the girl over here, the one who looks like she's going to fall over any minute? You know what she could use? A glass of water. You know whose job it is to get her one? That would be, oh, I don't know – _yours, _maybe? Well, don't just stand there, _idiota. _Move! NOW!"

The young man's eyes bulged and his jaw dropped. Then he ran to the kitchen, practically tripping over his own feet in his haste to flee from the implications of violence he had seen in the woman's eyes.

While Santana raged against the young waiter, Rachel had gotten up and stepped around Brittany to hold Marley upright. The younger woman's eyes were slightly unfocused as she began to regain her breath. Rachel rubbed the small of her back in a small, circular motion, softly asking if she was all right.

"She's – she's so – _strong..._" was all the reply Marley could manage before the waiter arrived with a tall glass of ice water, stammering out his apologies for being so slow.

Rachel thanked the young man, and he scurried off to bring water for the rest of them. Santana watched him run with a satisfied smile on her lips, while Brittany bit her lip and looked at Marley with a concerned expression.

"I'm sorry. Did I break her?" Brittany asked, clearly worried.

Rachel guided Marley down into her chair, and she drank her ice water slowly. The color returned to her face and her breathing returned to normal.

"I think she's okay now, Brittany," Rachel assured her with a smile, not wanting Brittany to become upset. Then she turned her focus back to Marley. "You _are _all right, aren't you?"

After swallowing another gulp of water, Marley took a breath, just to be sure. Then she smiled and looked at Brittany. "Yes...yes, I'm fine, Brittany. I didn't mean to scare you or anything – you just took me by surprise, that's all."

Brittany beamed at her, all distress leaving her features in an instant. Rachel sighed and relaxed, noting that Santana was doing the same. She was relieved, because an upset Brittany meant an upset Santana, and an upset Santana meant...well, no one was safe if Snixx was unleashed. The thought of it made her shudder internally.

"I get that a lot," Brittany said brightly. "San always says that I don't know my own strength, which I guess makes sense, because I can't hug myself or anything, so how would I know?"

Santana laughed and turned her dark gaze, which was suddenly filled with warmth, to the blonde, whose head swung around so that she could lock eyes with her girlfriend.

"Exactly. My Britt's a genius," Santana proclaimed as they interlaced their fingers together, slender, long-nailed tan ones meshing with blunt-nailed, longer pale ones. Santana brought Brittany's hand to her lips and kissed her fingertips. Both wore dazed smiles, looking at each other as though they had just fallen in love all over again.

They all laughed quietly. Rachel shook her head in amazement at the way her friends had hardly changed at all since their days in high school.

The waiter returned with a large round tray filled with glasses of water and a large basket of bread and butter. He hurried to distribute the glasses to everyone and place the basket in the center of their table. His eyes kept darting over to Santana as though he expected her to leap up from her seat and tackle him to the ground at any moment. Amused, she merely smiled sweetly at the clearly frazzled young man and said, "Thank you very much."

Rachel gave him her best show smile, hoping it would reassure and calm him down a bit. "Yes, thank you. We'll need a few moments to look over our menus, if that's all right."

As expected, the show smile worked its magic. The young man visibly relaxed, the tension in his back and shoulders clearly lessening, and his face took on a confident and determined look, one that said he was going to get through this without further embarrassment no matter what, even if it killed him.

"Yes, of course," he replied. "Take your time. In the meantime, if anyone would like something to drink besides water, I'll be happy to get you something from the bar."

"I'm fine," Marley said, pointing to her half-full glass.

Santana raised an eyebrow at this, but held back the snarky remark that instantly popped into her head, choosing instead to say, "A glass of white wine would be nice."

Brittany ordered a fuzzy navel, then confessed that she didn't know what the drink actually contained – she just liked the name, which got a hearty laugh from everyone at the table. The waiter was smart enough to swallow his own impulse to chuckle, noticing the way Santana ever so slightly narrowed her eyes at him, silently daring him to laugh at her girl.

"A glass of white wine for me as well," Rachel announced, and the young man nodded at her, then turned on his heel to put in their drink orders.

Marley reached for the basket, selecting a moderately sized slice of the still-warm bread and several containers of butter, before handing it to Brittany, who smiled happily as she helped herself. Rachel shook her head when Brittany offered the basket to her. Santana declined as well, and Brittany placed the basket back in the center of the table.

"So Marley," Santana drawled. "Tell us about yourself. Where are you from, how did you and Rachel meet, et cetera, et cetera, yada yada yada."

Caught in mid-chew, and off-guard yet again, Marley swallowed her bite of deliciously buttered bread before considering her reply.

"Well," she began, "I'm from Lima, like you guys. I went to Carmel, though. I was in Vocal Adrenaline, the Decline Years. After the New Directions won Nationals, when you were all there, VA was never the same. I got a few individual awards at competitions, best solo performance and original songs, but we were never able to regain the favored status we used to have before you all came along. That was fine with me, though, because Rachel was actually my hero." Rachel actually blushed at this, and she paused to take in the sight, noting the look of surprise on Santana's face as well. "I used to spend hours watching videos of her and New Directions on YouTube – God, you guys were so great! And then, of course, she became a big star on Broadway. Obviously, that was my inspiration to apply to NYADA and come to New York to pursue my dream of being a singer-songwriter."

The waiter returned to the table and placed the drinks in front of them.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said. "May I take your orders, please?"

"Oh my goodness!" Rachel exclaimed. "We completely forgot to look at the menu. I'm so sorry." She flashed him a look of apology with a small shrug, and all four women raised their menus.

Quickly, they scanned their menus and decided what to order.

"Britts, you go first. What would you like?" Santana asked gently. The softness with which Santana always addressed Brittany would never fail to amaze those around them. The tender way they spoke to each other in moments like this still melted Rachel's heart, even after knowing and being around them for all these years. Marley looked frankly astonished at Santana's transformation from completely scary to totally vulnerable.

Brittany looked up from her menu to the waiter with her tongue still sticking out of the side of her mouth the way it always did when she was concentrating really hard.

"Could I have the spaghetti with meatballs, please? Santana and I like to share the spaghetti – I'll take one end of it and she'll take the other, and then we'll eat until it's almost all gone and our lips are really close, and -"

"Britt! Sweetie, I'm sure he doesn't really want to hear about that," Santana interrupted.

Marley leaned over to whisper into Rachel's ear: "Maybe _he_ doesn't, but I'm pretty sure _I'd_ like to hear more about that later."

Giggling, Rachel whispered back, "Hush, you! If Santana hears, she'll kill us both."

Santana cleared her throat, and Marley jumped away from Rachel.

"Chicken parmigiana with penne for me, please. And could we get some breadsticks up in here?" She handed her menu, along with Brittany's, over to him with a feral smile.

The waiter's nervousness returned at Santana's request. "Um, I'll have to see if we have any in the kitchen."

"Please do. Thanks ever so much," Santana purred. Her voice was pleasant, but the waiter could swear he saw the potential for murder in her eyes if she didn't get what she wanted. He could tell that she was a woman who almost alwaysgot what she wanted, one way or another, and if she didn't – well, he didn't even want to think about that. He felt a slight sheen of sweat break out on his forehead, and he knew that the color was draining from his face - but he was a _professional_, damn it, and he wasn't going let a little thing like some breadsticks ruin his day, even if he had to run to another restaurant to get them.

Rachel took it upon herself to break the tension, yet again, handing her menu over and smiling warmly at the beleaguered server.

"Yes, well. I would like the vegetarian lasagna, please. Thank you."

He nodded and looked to Marley. "And for you, miss...?"

"Fettucine alfredo carbonara, please. Thanks." She felt three pairs of eyes on her: Rachel's disapproving, Brittany's curious, and Santana's gleaming with mirth. "What? I like bacon, even though I know Rachel doesn't approve."

Rachel stuck her tongue out at her. Santana and Brittany both laughed. Marley just shook her head and sipped her water.

"I like this one, short stack. Glad you're keeping her around."

"Yeah, Rachel. She's really cool. And really hot, too," Brittany said. Then she lifted her drink to her lips as though she hadn't said anything at all. "Mmm. Not fuzzy at all."

Santana and Rachel both yelped in unison: "Britt!"

Marley laughed so hard and so loud that she had to cover her mouth with her napkin to muffle the sound. Rachel thought it was just about the sweetest thing she'd ever heard.

* * *

Santana got her breadsticks, whooping in triumph when the slightly out of breath waiter returned to the table with a basket full of them. They were warm and seasoned with a delightful blend of garlic, Parmesan cheese and spices, and Santana had to bite back a moan at how tasty they were. Marley reached for one and Santana all but growled at her.

"Mine!" she said.

"Santana!" Brittany scolded. "Be nice, or no sweet lady kisses for you when we get home." She smiled at Marley. "Take as many as you want. It's okay."

Marley was hesitant, but Brittany half-glared at Santana, forcing her to relent.

"Yeah, sorry. Go ahead," she murmured, gesturing at the basket. "I probably shouldn't eat all of them, anyway."

Brittany beamed even as Santana pouted. "That's better," she said, pressing a kiss to her girlfriend's cheek.

"You two are amazing," Marley said as she took several breadsticks from the basket. "I mean, Rachel's told me so much about you, but it's a whole other thing to actually see the way you are together."

"Aw, Rachel. It's so sweet that you talk about us," Brittany said. "She talks about you all the time too."

Santana sipped at her wine. "Rachel talks a lot, period," she cracked, but there was no malice in the remark, which Rachel acknowledged with a laugh. She knew that Santana would never stop teasing her, but it was gentle and playful and all in fun, and she knew that there was only love behind the words.

"Well, yes, that's true, but Marley's well worth talking about."

Marley blushed and chewed on her breadstick. "Mmm, these are better than the ones they had at Breadstix."

Laughing, Rachel said, "Finn always said that for a place called Breadstix, theirs left something to be desired."

"Actually," Brittany corrected, "he said they kind of sucked."

"Hey, don't be dissing my Breadstix!" Santana protested. "My parents still send me boxes of them every month. There's just something about them, okay? I can't explain it."

They all laughed as their meals suddenly arrived, and the smell of all the food was overwhelming in a very good way. The waiter produced a giant pepper grinder and a chunk of fresh Romano cheese wrapped in a cloth napkin, accompanied by a small metal grater. Brittany clapped her hands excitedly and asked for extra cheese on her meatballs. The young man complied with her request, then grated some cheese and sprinkled some black pepper onto Santana's and Marley's dishes, while Rachel requested only a little pepper on hers, being very sensitive to certain spices and seasonings.

"So, Marley," Brittany began as she twirled spaghetti onto her fork. "You never told us how you and Rachel met. I mean, it's kind of wild that you sort of idolized her and then ended up working for her."

"It _is _unusual, I suppose," Rachel replied, seeing that Marley's mouth was full of pasta. "Basically, I came to NYADA to teach a special class for the vocal performance majors, and Marley's performance was so strong that I asked her to stay behind after the rest of the students left. She was absolutely extraordinary. I was particularly impressed by the fact that she had chosen to perform a song she had written herself, and then even more impressed when she told me that she had done the same thing for her audition."

Santana Lopez was notoriously difficult to impress – just ask any of Rachel's previous girlfriends (well, those who had been brave enough to meet her, anyway) – but this bit of information really made her sit up and pay attention. She began to look at Marley with a newfound respect, scrutinizing her in a way she hadn't before. Obviously, the girl was freaking gorgeous, with all that long, dark hair and those wide blue eyes, and yeah, those jeans fit her spectacularly well. But looking at her more closely now, Santana saw a freshness, an unspoiled sort of innocence that she knew Rachel found immensely appealing. There was nothing the least bit pretentious about Marley, just a gentle, genuine warmth and kindness radiating from every pore. Like Rachel, she wore her emotions on her sleeve, incapable of hiding anything. But unlike Rachel, she lacked the confidence, the unshakable self-assurance that could and would get her through anything. She didn't doubt Marley had talent, but she could tell that it was still slightly raw and in need of guidance and nurturing in order to fully blossom – and there was no one better to provide that than the woman sitting next to her, smiling and laughing as though they had not a care in the world.

And they were always touching each other, Santana noticed. Rachel was always landing small, slight, fleeting touches on Marley's hand, or on her arm or shoulder. And sometimes Marley would brush a stray lock of hair away from Rachel's eyes, or tucking it behind her ear. Nothing that screamed, "I want you," but if there was one thing Santana knew about, it was latent desire. That, and the legendary inability of Rachel Berry to see what was right in front of her when it was obvious to everyone else.

They were clearly _very_ attracted to each other. Not "in love" just yet, maybe.

But not "just friends," either.

"Wow," Santana said. "Pretty ballsy move there."

Marley picked up the story where Rachel had left off.

"It never occurred to me that I was taking any kind of risk by performing an original song for my audition. It had always gone very well for me whenever I did original songs with Vocal Adrenaline, so I saw no reason not to do it for NYADA. I just figured, that's what I do. It's who I am. I sing, and I write songs." She shrugged, modestly. "So anyway, Rachel and I talked after the class, and then we went out for coffee, and the next thing I knew, she offered me a job right then and there. The timing could not possibly have been better, because I had just left my last job, waitressing at a diner. My boss was a complete perv, always looking at me and touching me, and finally I couldn't take it anymore and quit after he squeezed my ass while I was serving birthday cake to a six year old boy. God, that guy was so horrible. But I needed to be able to pay my share of the rent, and sometimes a little more when one of my roommates came up a little short. So I was really worried about what I was going to do next when Rachel came out of nowhere and saved me from having to go crawling back to the diner."

"There was simply no way I was going to allow you to do that, Marley," Rachel said, her eyes flashing with remembered anger at the way Marley had been treated. "My previous assistant had left to become a nanny for some rich banker and his wife, and after five minutes of talking to Marley, I just knew she would be perfect for the job. I could see that she was intelligent and hard-working, and that she would understand what I needed. It was completely serendipitous."

"And lucky, too," Brittany said in a low, serious voice.

"Yes," Marley replied quietly, looking at Rachel. Their eyes met. "Very lucky."

The meal continued in a pleasant fashion. Marley found Brittany to be adorably off-kilter, with a light-hearted, almost childlike manner that brought out the sweet and gentle side of Santana that lay just beneath her hard and tough exterior. She knew, from many conversations with Rachel about them, that Santana's toughness had been borne – at least in part - out of a desire to protect Brittany from anyone who might want to hurt her, or take advantage of her innocent, trusting nature. The kids in their neighborhood had learned the lesson, painfully, that the one thing you did _not _want to do, ever, was hurt or insult Brittany, because Santana's wrath was a thing of unholy terror. She called the manifestation of her inner rage "Snixx," as though it were an alternate personality, and once unleashed, only Brittany had ever been able to bring her out of that near-berserker state, with barely more than a look, a touch of her hand, and some soothing words.

Indeed, as the conversation flowed easily and the night went on, Marley was in awe of the way the two former cheerleaders were so completely in sync with each other, and with Rachel. They finished each other's sentences with astonishing frequency and displayed an extraordinary ability to render each other weak with laughter with a raised eyebrow or subtle facial expression. The bond they shared was deep and unbreakable, forged in the fires of competition, struggle, love and acceptance. They were more than friends, these three. They were _family_.

She had heard Rachel say this many times, but until this night, she had never truly understood it. Not until seeing it, like a tangible, palpable thing. It was magical. It was beautiful. And it made Marley's heart ache with pride and happiness, to know these people, to know how they had gone through so much together, and come out of it all with the kind of relationships that were unquestionably destined to last for all their lives.

" - and the _best _thing is that Sue was so sure she was going to be principal _forever_, but then her own _daughter_ blew the whistle on all the hazing that was going on in the Cheerios locker room, not to mention all the inappropriate free swag that they'd been getting all these years, and the school board smacked her down so hard, she didn't even know what hit her until Emma showed up and announced that _she _had been made principal. I heard that Becky actually tried to get Sue's gun out of her desk drawer to keep security from escorting her out of the office, screaming the whole time about how Emma _couldn't_ be principal because she wasn't born in the United States or something."

They all laughed with tears in their eyes as Santana finished her story, until Rachel noticed the faraway look in Marley's eyes.

"Marley? Are you all right?" she asked, concerned.

The voice brought her out of her reverie and she nodded to Rachel. "What? Oh, sorry. I'm fine. I was just...thinking."

Brittany smiled. "I do that a lot, but then Lord Tubbington has to tell me to stop, because he can hear my thoughts, and he says they hurt his delicate ears."

Marley blinked at this, but before she could say anything, Rachel silenced her with a look and answered her unspoken question. "Your cat is quite the marvel of nature, Brittany. How is his Lordship doing these days?"

Santana chuckled and said, "Still planning out his quest for world domination, which he would no doubt have achieved already if he could ever get out of his comfy little bed."

"How many times have I _told _you, Santana? He's not _fat – _he's just big boned!" Brittany protested, swatting her girlfriend's arm with her napkin, provoking more laughter from everyone at the table, including Marley this time.

The nervous waiter reappeared as the four young women finished their meals and asked if they would like some dessert.

"I'll just have some coffee, please," Rachel answered first. "With soy or almond milk, if you have it. Thank you very much."

The waiter nodded, then focused his attention on Brittany and Santana.

Santana turned to Brittany. "What would you like, Britt? Want to see a menu?"

Brittany's face scrunched up adorably as she pondered the question, and then a beaming smile appeared on her face as she looked up at the waiter. "Chocolate cake! Please – the biggest slice you've got. Santana and I will share. Oh, and a glass of real milk for both of us too. Sorry, Rachel, but chocolate cake demands real milk. It's like a law or something."

Rachel could only shake her head and laugh at the apologetic look that Brittany had turned her way. The girl really was like a sweet little puppy, she thought.

"No problem, Brittany. I would never ask you to violate the law for my sake."

"I think I'd like some gelato," Marley interjected. "Chocolate, please? Thanks."

"Ugh, we're all going to need a few extra workouts after this," groaned Santana.

"But Santana, didn't you tell me that sex burns off more calories than working out, or even dancing? We'll just have sex when we come home. Then you shouldn't need any workouts at all."

"Britt!"

* * *

After dessert, which had featured Brittany and Santana each kissing dollops of whipped cream off each other's noses, and Brittany hilariously asking if almond cows gave almond milk, the foursome hugged each other goodnight, extracting promises to call each other soon, and departed the restaurant. Santana had insisted on paying the bill - "Because HBO pays better than Broadway," she'd said with a smirk - and was in such a good mood after all the fun and frivolity of the evening that she actually left their harried waiter a very generous tip and a handwritten note of thanks for his "not completely sucky service."

The drive home was quiet, each of them content to lose themselves in their own thoughts. Marley's head lay on Rachel's shoulder, and Rachel played with Marley's long, dark hair as soft music wafted through the air from the car stereo.

When they got back to Rachel's apartment, Marley spoke up as she lay her purse on the dining table next to Rachel's and took off her jacket, while Rachel stepped out of her heels. "That was fun. I can't remember the last time I laughed so much, or so hard. Brittany and Santana are hilarious, and so sweet together. You can really tell they've been together for years, but they're as much in love now as they were when they first started dating."

Rachel sighed as she stretched her arms above her head to loosen the tension that had set into her back during the ride back from the restaurant. She was tired, but she found that she didn't want the night to come to an end just yet.

"They're a truly exceptional couple," she agreed. "Not many relationships last from high school all the way through college and into adulthood, regardless of sexual orientation, but those two just knew that they were each other's forever person, right from the start. They've known each other practically all their lives, since kindergarten or something, were best friends before they started dating, and now look at them."

Rachel paused, and her lips curled into a small, soft smile, and the expression was one that Marley knew as the face Rachel wore when she was thinking a happy thought.

"Don't tell Santana I told you this, or she'll make sure our bodies are never found after she's had us dispatched," Rachel began in a low, conspiratorial tone, as they plopped down tiredly together on the couch. "But earlier this evening, when we were in the bathroom at the restaurant, Santana confided in me that she's planning to ask Brittany to marry her when we go out to Hollywood to start work on the movie."

"Oh my God! That's wonderful! Brittany will be so happy," Marley cried. "I'm so excited for them."

Rachel leaned back and swung her feet up into Marley's lap, and the younger woman absently began to rub them. This seemed to be their regular post-night-out ritual: a talk, a foot rub, some wine, and eventually popcorn and a movie.

"Mmm," Rachel murmured. "You have magic fingers, Marley. If you hadn't decided to become the wildly successful singer-songwriter I know you're going to be, I think you could have opened a very popular massage studio. I know that I would most certainly pay for your foot massages." She sighed happily, closing her eyes as Marley's strong hands worked the soreness out of her feet; God, she hated wearing heels.

Marley laughed at the way Rachel was all stretched out on the couch beside her, eyes closed and purring like a cat, and replied, "Well, you kind of already _do_ pay for them, don't you? After all, I _am _your personal assistant."

"That you are. And a great one. Because, I assure you, most personal assistants do _not_ offer foot rubs as one of the services they perform for their employers. Most of them don't even want to bring you coffee half the time."

"I think that might be a slight exaggeration."

"Oh, you say that now, but trust me, when you're a big star, you'll find out. It's not always everything it's cracked up to be. Sometimes...sometimes it's lonely. Your life's work can become your _life_, period. And then, suddenly, one day you look around and you've got all these accolades and awards, and all these amazing experiences, but the one thing you don't have is the thing that matters most: someone to share it with you."

"And that's why you're...envious of Santana and Brittany," Marley ventured. "Because they have everything you have, _and_ they have each other on top of it all."

Rachel opened her eyes and let out a long, low sigh. "Yes. Yes, I suppose I am. I love them like sisters, but I can't help but wonder why _they_ get to have it all, and I don't."

Marley looked at Rachel then, challenging her with her gaze. "You have more than you think you do," she said softly.

Brown eyes met blue. Rachel found herself lost, feeling as though Marley could see directly into the deepest part of her. She wanted to close her eyes again, wanted to hide from that gentle scrutiny, but she just couldn't look away.

Not from her eyes, which were as tranquil and deep as the sea. Not from her lips, full and red and vibrant and slightly parted.

Neither of them would remember later which one of them had moved first, who had leaned forward to cross the distance between them, whose hand had touched whose face, then tangled in long, dark locks as lips met and heartbeats quickened. They were oblivious, completely lost in each other, as time slowed and seconds became like minutes, minutes stretched into hours, and night lengthened into morning. They _would _remember, however, both of them making sounds that were like music, but definitely were _not, _filling the room even as the first light of dawn spilled in through the closed blinds.


End file.
